


Endurance

by WantsUnicorns



Series: Endurance Trilogy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trials of a single year will drive Draco to the brink and Harry to face the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endurance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic in three parts. Each part sort of stands alone but it'll make more sense, if you read them one after the other. It's the first fic I have written after a hiatus of over 3,5 years, please be gentle with me.  
> It would never have happened without my amazing beta, cheerleader, handholder and partner in crime often_astray who stepped on my toes when necessary and cheered me on, when I was starting to lose confidence. Thank you sooo much for everything Dear! ♥  
> I'd like to acknowledge that the idea of a magical signature trace isn't from me. I read it in one of silentauror's fics and really liked the idea, which is why I used it in this fic. I hope that's okay.

The sky looked like it was about to rain and a cold wind swept the last of the fallen leaves through the deserted park. The lone figure of a man dressed in black and looking forlorn was illuminated by the yellow light of a single street lamp nearby. To the casual observer it appeared as if the figure had withdrawn so far into whatever it was that kept his mind occupied that he didn’t even notice the cold or the approaching night.

Draco slowly turned the small phial in his hand, staring at his distorted upside down reflection in the dark glass. He knew his face was drawn, his eyes pools of hollow darkness, his complexion too pale and yet he couldn’t avert his eyes. The image seemed to move, become stranger and more twisted with every turn of the phial. Part of him believed what he saw in the cold glass was the reflection of his soul.

This small object represented the solution to everything, a promise of profound peace and eternal calm. It was tempting, more tempting than Draco was willing to admit to himself. To just give in, swallow the contents and it would all be over and done with. The emptiness inside would be gone, become one with the vastness of the universe. 

Every day was the same; he’d get up early, earlier than anyone else to beat the rush to the ministry. He’d put on his assistant librarian’s robes, drink a cup of lukewarm coffee as he couldn’t be bothered to apply a re-heating charm, grab his bag and head out the door of his entirely unremarkable second floor flat.

He’d once made the mistake of actually showing up with everyone else and had been forced to realize that nothing had changed. He’d been shoved, cursed “Death Eater scum”, had been spit on and somebody had even set his cloak on fire. In the end he had to flee into the tiny space of one of the men’s rooms, jamming his shoulder against the door while quickly applying a locking charm to escape his tormentors. 

He never made it to work that day, not daring to open the door till everyone else had gone home. When he’d finally unlocked the door and snuck out he could see Harry Potter surrounded by his friends, his arm around his girlfriend, laughing and joking while making their way to the exit.

Draco was certain that if he’d already been in possession of the small phial that was at this very moment warming up slowly in his hands, he’d have taken the way out it provided right then and there, consequences be damned. As it happened, he had no choice but to walk home: apparition and flooing privileges were not granted to ex-Death Eaters, take off his ruined robes, fix himself some dinner in his tiny flat and finally wash off the events of the day before retiring.

The intruding cold finally ended Draco’s reverie, he shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. After one last regretful look he let the phial slide back into his pocket and got up.

Luckily his flat wasn’t very far from the park and it took Draco only ten minutes to walk home through the descending darkness. When he reached his front door, he noticed an ash-blond man dressed in plain clothes trying to inconspicuously study the bus schedule while at the same time keeping an eye on him. 

Suddenly worried, Draco fidgeted with his key as he tried to unlock the front door. After several unsuccessful tries the door opened and he stumbled into the entrance hall, his hands clammy with cold sweat and his heart racing. Draco didn’t turn on the light and carefully glanced through the windows inset into the heavy oak front door. The man outside wasn’t even pretending to be studying the bus schedule anymore, he was now openly staring at the closed door Draco was hiding behind, almost as if he could tell Draco was still watching him. If he hadn’t been sure that the stranger couldn’t possibly make him out through the windows in the darkness of the front hall, he would have sworn that the stranger’s eyes were boring straight into his. 

Draco used his right hand to wipe the sweat from his brows and when he looked outside again the street was deserted, there was no trace of there ever having been another person.

The fear of anti-Death Eater retributions drove him up the stairs at a dead run, he panted as he took down the wards and unlocked the door to his flat. He rushed in and closed the door behind him, leaning against the cold smooth wood, he tried to get his frantic breathing under control. 

When his racing heartbeat finally slowed down, he reset the wards and took off his shoes. The flat, located in a Muggle building within a Muggle neighbourhood, was too cold for him to take off his cloak. After casting several heating charms and consuming a lonely meal at the kitchen table, he took a shower and went to bed. If not for his taking a dreamless sleep potion before curling up underneath his cold sheets, Draco’s night would have been filled with nightmares.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

An urgent tapping noise at the kitchen window startled Draco and made him spill his coffee.

“Oh, Bugger!”

The noise repeated itself. Cursing, Draco let the owl flutter inside that had been jumping up and down on the windowsill outside. He carefully detached the letter it was carrying from its leg and gave it an owl treat for not injuring his hand further. The handwriting on the envelope didn’t look familiar. Draco cast a magical signature detection spell and was less than pleased with the result; Harry Potter was the author of the letter.   
Carefully re-attaching the letter to the waiting owls leg, he cast a quick spell that made red letters blossom on the parchment, gave the owl another treat and opened the window to let it be on its way. He watched it disappear into the pale morning sky and wondered how many times he would have to cast that spell, before the sender finally got the message: “delivery declined!”

Draco had never been a morning person. Even when he could still bear to stay at the manor with his parents, he’d never got out of bed before the sun was fully up and had had plenty of time to survey its domain. Now the sky was barely tinged in a soft mixture of pink and orange, signalling the approach of dawn. Draco negligently cast a quick healing charm on his hand after spelling away the mess of coffee and milk he’d made. His morning coordination skills left much to be desired.

Making sure of his appearance in the hallway mirror, Draco grabbed his keys and his bag, lowered the wards and made his way out of the door.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

The Ministry was deserted this early in the morning but for over-eager secretaries and assistants hoping for a promotion or to replace their superiors. Draco was neither of those. Avoiding yet another wizard balancing a tray of take-away coffee cups and a pile of what probably was top secret correspondence, he ducked into a corridor leading to the dark shelf-lined corridors of the ministry’s Magical Blueprint and Building Planning Library.

Sometimes he wondered why there was even a need for an assistant librarian, it wasn’t as if anyone ever came down here to inquire after building plans or asking to look at an original blueprint. Not even Granger had been here once. Considering how her kind actually hatched in the dusty stacks of libraries and would probably wither in the light of day, it went to show just how dead his work place actually was. Most days he didn’t expect to see another human being, while he sat behind his desk, cataloguing dusty and faded blueprints of long forgotten wizarding buildings that probably didn’t even exist anymore. On rare occasions he wondered what would happen if he took the time to compare a map of current London with the blueprints stored in the library. Should he decide to take a walk through the city, looking for _buried_ treasure, would he actually come across any of the houses or had they all been swallowed up or replaced by the ever-growing Muggle London?

Today didn’t appear to be different than any other day. Draco nodded at his superior, took off his cloak, sat behind his desk, sharpened his quill and began to work.

It didn’t matter how fast or slow he worked or if he worked at all, nothing really mattered. He knew why he’d taken the job in the first place: because sitting at home thinking about what should have been was worse. Not that there had been many jobs for him to choose from, if he was honest with himself this was the only offer he’d received that didn’t involve him working in some incredibly subservient position to teach Death Eater scum like him their place.

He was concentrating so diligently on making out the lettering on a particularly faded piece of parchment he didn’t notice someone approaching his work space until the person stood almost directly in front of his desk and cleared their throat. Looking up he could only make out a shadow wearing what appeared to be glasses that reflected the light of the single lamp adorning Draco’s desk that shed barely enough light to illuminate the piece of furniture itself let alone his visitor. The person took another step forward, finally stepping into the sickly yellow pool of light the offending desk lamp was casting in a vain attempt to hold the ever present darkness in the library at bay. 

Draco tried to keep his voice neutral as he put his quill down and addressed Harry Potter.

“Auror Potter, how may I assist you today?”

Of course it had to be Potter, as if Draco’s days weren’t bad enough without anyone showing up. It wasn’t like he’d made a special effort to avoid Potter after the trial, but seeing him again reminded Draco of all the things that were wrong with his life. As if searching for re-assurance, his hand slipped into his pocket unbidden and closed around the small glass phial.

“I was actually looking for some blueprints of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. I don’t know what year the house was built in though, all I know is that it’s located near Kings Cross Station. I really hope this doesn’t make it too inconvenient to look for.” Potter said, as if the words couldn’t force themselves out of his mouth fast enough.

“I’ll go and see what I can find, wait here please.” Draco said feeling only slightly better than a house elf as he took his wand and walked along one of the dimly lit, dusty, endless seeming corridors filled from ceiling to floor with faded scrolls. 

Why did Potter have to be here now, why not during lunch hour, when Draco could have hidden in the vast dusty recesses of the library? As if called by his thoughts, Draco could hear steps coming up behind him. He stopped abruptly and turned around. Potter almost bumped into him, startled by Draco’s sudden lack of motion most likely. If Draco hadn’t taken a step back the same time Potter realized Draco had stopped, he probably would have walked straight into him.

“I just told you to wait for me Potter. Can’t you even pay attention to the simplest instructions or do you need me to write them down for you?” Draco’s voice sounded sharp and out of place in the quiet of the library. He cursed himself for losing his temper over something as trivial as this.

“I, sorry, I’ve just never been in this library before and…” he paused “and I wanted to speak to you in private.”

“Potter, as much as I enjoy your company, I have work to do, _I_ don’t have time for private conversations.” _Unlike you_ , but he didn’t say that out loud. Draco didn’t quite manage to entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice as he spoke.

“Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place you said, that should still be in the part of the library that hasn’t been catalogued according to the new system yet. As you appear to insist on coming with me, please be quiet and most importantly, don’t touch anything.” Draco turned around as he said this and still couldn’t miss the look on Potter’s face that wouldn’t have been amiss on the face of a puppy that someone had just forcefully introduced to a shoe for the first time. 

It took them another five minutes to reach the shelves which most likely contained the plans Potter was looking for. Draco carefully started levitating several scrolls onto a nearby table to make sure he’d found the right street, as this area of the library was still sorted according to location on wizarding London’s map as opposed to by year. Potter still hadn’t spoken when Draco brightened one of the lamps attached to the tabletop. Apparently he’d taken Draco’s warning seriously for once. He bent over the table, carefully straightening one of the scrolls, then discarding it and straightening another. None of the scrolls contained what he was looking for, but they were close, he stepped back from the table and levitated the lot back to their original place all the while feeling Potter’s eyes on him. 

He ran his hand along the shelves feeling the ancient and partially splintered wood, squinting in the dim light to make out the faded numerals that would guide him to the scroll he was looking for. The sooner he found it, the sooner Potter would leave. When he finally could make out the correct shelf, he could feel himself relax slightly, it would all be over soon. He had to stretch to one of the higher shelves to reach for the scroll and could feel his shirt tuck free of his trousers as he did so. Great, now he was partially undressed in front of Potter.

When he turned around with scroll in hand, Potter was right in front of him, a look of longing on his face. Draco hadn’t noticed how close Potter had stood, while he himself reached for the scroll. Before Draco could move away, Potter crowded him into the shelves, pressing his body flush against him and inhaling his scent.

“Potter, what…” but Draco’s words were cut off by Potter’s lips on his. Potter’s tongue demanding entrance as Draco tried to break free. He pushed Potter away more harshly than he had intended, making him crash into the shelves on the other side of the small corridor, causing an avalanche of scrolls to tumble down on top of him. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if disgusted, while the other hand was still clutching the scroll, Draco took a deep breath before he spoke.

“This is your scroll Potter, take it and get out.” He could see the hurt stamped all over Potter’s face and part of him wondered why Potter had thought it a good idea to kiss him. How dare he ambush Draco at his work and behave like he still wanted him. He had no right! Draco forcefully stopped himself from following that line of thought.

“Draco, I…” Potter began, but Draco wouldn’t have any of it.

“Take it and get out, get out now before I forget myself!” He almost shouted, forcing the by now slightly crumpled scroll into Potter’s hand. Carefully levitating the fallen scrolls back onto their shelves he ignored the pleading look on Potter’s face and when he was done he stalked off into the dark.

Making sure Potter had left before returning to his desk, Draco was too agitated by what had happened to be able to concentrate on work. His hand repeatedly snuck into his pocket, making sure the phial was still there, as if its mere existence somehow anchored him to this world. He would have called it a day and gone home early if his fear of the other wizards didn’t keep him in his office every day till long after everyone else had gone home, just to make sure he would get back safely.

When he finally left the library, his footsteps hollowly echoed around the empty atrium as he made his way to the exit.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

The bench was cold and solid beneath him. It was always the same bench around the same time, every single day. The phial was out in the open again and Draco traced its shape with his fingers. Seeing Potter again after such a long time tempted him all the more to just give in. Round and round the distorted image of his own face went as he twisted and turned the small glass object in his fingers. Whispering to him about what lay beneath, drawing him in more than on most days.

He still didn’t understand why Potter had shown up in the first place. Surely he could have sent someone to fetch those blueprints for him. People had to be lining up to do the Golden Boy a favour.

A cold gust of air tousled his straight blond hair and broke his reverie just like it did every day. The phial disappeared into its usual place and Draco got up. When he raised his gaze, his eyes fell upon a ginger-haired plainly dressed man who was watching him from across a dead flower bed. 

Trying not show how nervous he was, Draco sped up his steps and hurried home now and again casting furtive glances over his shoulder trying to make out whether the stranger was following.

The scene from the night before repeated itself. After having unlocked and closed the front door, Draco hid in the dark and stared out onto the street until the man vanished.

Later in his flat Draco contemplated whether he was just being paranoid or whether somebody was actually following him. If so, that somebody obviously had access to polyjuice potion. Considering what had happened to other former Death Eaters, it was very unlikely that the stranger’s intentions were to surprise Draco with flowers and a song. 

The next few days at work Draco wasn’t disturbed by a single soul, on his way back however somebody always followed him home from the park, stood staring at his front door and then vanished. By then it was obvious that this was no coincidence and that whoever was polyjuicing himself was following Draco, most likely out of some dark twisted ulterior motive.

Draco began looking haggard and exhausted from lack of sleep. Not even dreamless sleep potion seemed to be able to keep the nightmares at bay anymore. He spent the nights twisting and turning, waking up screaming and shaking, tangled in his bed sheets and unable to go back to sleep. 

Every evening in the park the phial and its allure became stronger, but he’d made a promise, he would wait. 

His dreams over the next few weeks were filled with visions of Voldemort’s reign at the manor, of being cut up by a thoughtlessly cast curse and always Harry’s green eyes, grinning and laughing at him. It was always Harry in his dreams, never Potter. In his dreams, Harry saved him from the fiendfyre again and again, but when they reached the safety of the corridor before the room of lost things, Harry would just push him back into the flames and the last thing he would see before he pushed the door shut trapping him in the room was Harry and his friends and the ginger-haired girl laughing.

And finally it was time, it wasn’t just the phial calling out to him, it was the right time, he had waited, had suffered through all those months, but most importantly, he hadn’t broken his promise. Nothing had got better it had only got worse, he still felt hollow and broken and unworthy. He’d felt trapped and desperate when he’d purchased the phial. It was supposed to be his last resort. If things got so bad that he couldn’t stand it anymore, he would drink the contents of the phial and drift into beautiful oblivion forever. Free from pain and sorrow, from worry and fear. 

He’d fled home after work like some hunted animal, not even bothering with the park, hoping to avoid his unwanted companion this way, but he knew that if he stepped to the window and drew aside the plain curtain, he’d see him standing downstairs by the bus stop and looking up at his flat.

Draco took his time in the shower, dried his hair with a careful spell and put on his favourite dress robes. He’d made sure that his affairs were in order weeks ago. Today’s date approaching faster than he’d anticipated, faster than he’d dared to hope. 

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Draco took one last look around, not feeling any regret as he finally removed the stopper from the phial with trembling fingers. He toasted to invisible guests as if he was holding a glass of exquisite wine.

“Well, Potter, congratulations on saving the world, on vanquishing the darkest wizard of all time. Thanks for trying to save me, even though I didn’t deserve it. Here’s to you, may you be happy with the life you chose and may you be able to forgive me for not letting you save me this time.” 

Satisfied with his toast, he raised the phial once more and then downed its entire contents in one smooth gulp. 

_This, at last, is the end of Draco Malfoy_ , he thought impassively, as his sight dimmed. His body slumped in his chair, his hands slid off the table and his entire world dissolved into a sense of all-encompassing peace and silence.

TBC


End file.
